


Consideration: Or, The Smart Kids Get (It) Together

by cairn



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 12:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18756313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: Noun:Consideration1.Careful thought, typically over a period of time.2.A fact or a motive taken into account in deciding or judging something.3.Law: (in a contractual agreement) anything given or promised or forborne by one party in exchange for the promise or undertaking of another."You want to give yourself cancer?" she had asked."Good afternoon, Sakura," he'd drawled back. "So nice to see you so unexpectedly."





	Consideration: Or, The Smart Kids Get (It) Together

**Author's Note:**

> First: apologies for any Naruto-verse confusion. It's literally been a decade since I've touched the manga, but this piece wouldn't stop bothering me. 
> 
> Second: please enjoy.

It wasn't like it was something he hadn't thought of before. Ino had said something, once. Or several times. His mother had asked him for years if there was a girl in his class, someone special, someone he liked, before he learned the easiest way to deal with it was complete antipathy. Between some combination of his mother's nagging, Ino's excitement about Sasuke, and general adolescent excitement about romance (Ino) and girls (Kiba, probably) that persisted even despite training and classes and trying not to die (or, perhaps, that persisted because of it), he'd spent some time thinking through all the girls he knew. It was something he supposed he should do, or something to occupy his time. She'd come up on the list, of course. Sakura. Pink hair. Ino's friend, or pet project, or something. Sasuke-obsessed. And then the thought had passed, and he'd moved on to some other girl in his class. There had been no great stirring in him about her, or anyone else. 

It had taken years. There hadn't been a sudden collision in a corridor or a return from a mission and a first-look-at-her-after-months that had his cheeks flushing, like some ridiculous male lead in Ino's soaps. 

(The soaps had been part of a 'romantic education, you dolt, just stop complaining' that had massively failed - the first class he'd flunked since he'd fallen asleep in a pre-genin history exam. Ino had tried for ages to make him date someone, and had concluded he would be hopeless without the necessary tools to date, which were apparently easily discernable from teary-eyed girls weeping dramatically over a mistaken situation and best friends whose sole purpose were to move the plot along. Chouji had sat in on the second soap with them after Ino started complaining to him that Shikamaru just fell asleep halfway through them, had snorted at all the right parts and had been a quiet, comforting presence when Ino got red-eyed and teary along with the female lead. Shikamaru had known for years that Ino-Shika-Cho only worked with the "cho" part of the equation.)

But yes - years. They had passed. Sakura had shown up one day at a gathering of their friends, had walked up to him on the balcony, had deftly removed the cigarette from his mouth but hadn't scolded him for it. They'd talked, and she'd walked away after handing the still-smoking cigarette back to him. He'd smoked thoughtfully, turning over the image of her looking up at him, carefully balancing the cigarette between her fingers. Her unpainted nails. Her lashes, pale, lighter than the shadows they cast on the circles under her eyes. The slight curve of her chest visible where she'd unzipped her top slightly. He'd still been thinking when someone had smashed a glass (Lee, he could still remember) and he'd reluctantly stubbed out his cigarette to go deal with the altercation.

It wasn't that she was around more. She walked in and out of his life like most of Konoha Eleven. (Which, to be honest, wasn't to do with her as much as it was to do with him. Most of his life was spent unmoving. He'd spent a while thinking about inertia: lying down, watching the world move back and forth.) What had changed was the way his thoughts began to orbit her. Gravitational pull. He'd been dragged to a training session, ridiculously, to watch the kids - genin, children - that Tenten had been assigned, because Lee had decided everyone he knew had to know what beacons of youth still shone in their village, and she'd been there, too. Ino had waved, Sakura had walked over, and Shikamaru hadn't thought again about anyone under their age. He'd been preoccupied with the way she'd rolled her eyes at something Lee had yelled loudly, or the crooked grin she'd sent in Ino's direction about… something. He hadn't been following the conversation.

"I was thinking we'd go somewhere after our mission next week?" 

Shikamaru had looked at Ino and realized he had been staring at Sakura in one fell swoop. "Uh. Yes."

Ino had raised a brow. Shikamaru had fought hard to not look at Sakura, even if he could tell she was smiling from behind Ino's blonde hair. "You know, with Kurenai? Were you listening?"

It had clicked - get Kurenai out somewhere, one of Ino's projects since her baby had been born. Find someone for the child, give the woman a break. "Yeah, yeah. It doesn't matter where, I'm sure she'll be happy to have a break."

Ino had stared at him suspiciously for a second more before she nodded, apparently satisfied. "Of course she will. I've already set it up, it's going to be some genin's D-rank."

"Maybe theirs," Sakura had said, and Shikamaru had looked at her to see her looking at the genin. Lee had apparently been unable to help himself from 'aiding' Tenten, and now Tenten was having to spend half her time scolding Lee and half her time helping her genin.

Ino rolled her eyes. "Everyone has a boring D-rank every once in a while."

Shikamaru had eyed the three children. One of them was clearly trying to suppress laughter at Lee, the second only half-listening to Tenten, and the third was studiously sharpening a shuriken. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable that they, or another set of three kids, would be trusted with Kurenai's - Asuma's - child.

"You want to be a teacher, Shikamaru?" Sakura's voice had pulled him back to the two women beside him. She had her head slightly to the side, as if considering him in the role.

"No." Shikamaru hadn't hesitated. "Too troublesome."

"Will you ever come up with a more interesting answer?" Ino had griped, swatting his arm half-heartedly. "I knew what you were going to say before she even finished the question."

"I think he's right, though," Sakura had said. He had looked at her again. She had been studying the genin, her expression almost wistful. "We were such trouble at their age." 

"Speak for yourself." 

Shikamaru and Sakura had both snorted at Ino's words, and then laughed. Sakura's laugh was loud, careless. It had made him smile slightly, catch himself, and look away from her.

"You two were equally bad and you both know it," Shikamaru had said, turning away. 

"Excuse me?" Sakura had immediately tried to argue, but had been sidelined by Ino's argument, which Shikamaru had tuned out with practiced ease. 

"I've had enough of the village 'youth' for today." He had waved without turning around and walked away, still considering the way he had found it hard to look away. The pull towards her. Escape was the only way out of it, and even then - 

Even then, even though he had left, Sakura's laugh had followed him around for a week or so - that sudden, joyous noise. And her wistful expression - nostalgia, perhaps, or regret. Something he couldn't place, something he'd only seen rarely. And then he would realize he had been thinking about her and had studiously emptied his mind. (He thought of clouds. Sunlight. Trees, dappling the ground with shadows of leaves.)

And then she'd shown up at the compound, had asked to use the Nara library. His mother had immediately informed her that Shikamaru was free to show her around it, because surely he wasn't doing anything productive (which he hadn't been, but he'd grumbled loudly about it all the same), and disappeared. 

"So…" Sakura had said slowly, hovering in the doorway where her mother had left her. She had been dressed in civilian clothes, something red and cream colored. "Sorry I got you dragged into that."

"It's…" Shikamaru had been torn between honesty ('troublesome') and what was actually also honesty, and worried him because it was truthful ('fine, I don't mind'). He cracked his neck, rolling it backwards, and stood up. "It's normal, she's always nagging me."

"What were you doing?" Sakura had asked as he had walked up to her. "You know. Before I interrupted."

"Nothing," Shikamaru had said unrepentantly. "It was a great day."

She had laughed. "It was, huh? Guess I ruined that."

"It's fine." Shikamaru had walked her out to the library. He had realized before they got there that he had no idea who had let her in the forests to begin with - and yet it made sense. Medicine, Tsunade. Someone somewhere had pulled a string and Sakura had been given admittance to the clan forest. It wasn't surprising.

For her part, Sakura had seemed content to look around the collection of clan houses around her. It was fairly empty. Shikamaru had noticed at some point during their walk that she was carrying some kind of bag - notes, scrolls. She wanted to research something.

"What does Tsunade have you doing here?" He had asked.

"That obvious, huh?" 

Sakura had smiled at him, and he had looked away. "Not hard to guess." 

"Yeah, Shishou wants me to look into a poison remedy." Sakura had patted her bag. "I have a sample here, but don't worry, I promise not to spill it on your library."

Shikamaru had rolled the library door back for her, and had the sudden, unexpected pleasure of seeing her face light up at the sight. 

"Wow." Sakura's eyes were wide. "It's…"

"Old," Shikamaru had supplied, full well knowing this was not the word she was looking for. "Boring. Dusty."

"Oh, shut up." Sakura had hit him in the arm with more force than he had expected. Only the thrilled look on her face indicated she had no idea she'd punched him hard enough to bruise. "It's stunning. You clan kids, always ungrateful for the knowledge in your backyard."

"Yeah, yeah." Shikamaru had rolled his eyes at that, but had stored the words away to think over later. He'd begun to walk through the shelves, pushing past her to lead the way. "Poisons and stuff would be back here."

"Wow," Sakura had said softly behind him. He had turned to see her gently running her fingers over one of the scrolls on display. The painted deer on it was faded, but the calligraphy still readable. The wonder in her eyes - the reverence - made him pause. And then he shook himself.

"You probably shouldn't touch that," Shikamaru had said.

Sakura had recoiled as though burned, cheeks flushing deeply. He had thought, suddenly, almost without meaning to, of seeing her at twelve -- face the color of her hair, hands covering her forehead, the way she had stuttered a hello to him when Ino had introduced them. "Oh! Sorry, I wasn't thinking at all! It's ancient, I'm sure - I forgot about skin oils damaging -"

"It's fine," he had stopped her. "It's not going to break because you touched it. It's just… precaution."

"Right, of course." Sakura had gathered herself, cheeks still pink. The library had been dark, only slivers of light filtering in through the chinks between the shut sliding doors, and so she had been illuminated from behind by the open door she'd left behind them - the finer strands of her hair fading to almost white in the sunlight. "My bad, sorry, Shikamaru."

"It's not my library." He'd shrugged, turning away to walk to the back of the building. "Anyways, poisons should be here." 

"Thanks!" She had grinned at him lightly. "I appreciate it."

He had stopped for a second before leaving, as she began to carefully remove scrolls from the shelf he had indicated and investigate the first few lines in them. 

"Try not to open too many doors," he had said. "Sunlight hitting those old scrolls would be -"

"Troublesome?" Sakura had supplied, smiling at him, just a small flash of teeth.

"A nuisance," he had said, just to be contrarian. 

"All right." She had rolled her eyes. In the semi-darkness, her eyes could have been blue or brown or green. "I get it."

He had grunted affirmation, begun to walk away, when she had called back to him. "Thanks, Shikamaru!"

"Yeah, yeah." 

He had left, promptly avoided his mother (who he had glimpsed through the trees, waiting for him in the living room where he had been seated earlier), and sprawled out on the grass somewhere higher up in the complex. The clouds had been white, pearlescent and beautiful. And his mind had been somewhere darker, caught in the bookshelves, in the way Sakura had traced her fingertips gently across the parchment. The way her hair had caught the sunlight. Her proximity to him, trapped between ancient dust and wood. The way his nose had caught the smell of something light and fruity as he had walked around her to leave. 

"Fuck," he had said quietly to the clouds. 

They hadn’t responded. 

And the next day, she had come back.

"Go and make sure she's all right," his mother had said loudly. "Shikamaru! Stop pretending to sleep!"

"I'm not pretending," he had said, fully aware he was contradicting himself but keeping his eyes shut as though this could ward his mother away.

"How is my son so lazy!" She had smacked him; Shikamaru had rolled onto his side on the couch, covering his head to ward off a strike to his temple. "Gods! She is visiting our clan and you are not even bothering to attempt to be a host!" The words were punctuated by several smacks to his jonin vest. 

"I'm not her host," he had said, words drowned out by another barrage of arguments from his mother. Before the minute was up he had rolled himself into a seated position, had waved her away. "All right, all right, all right."

"Go, now." His mother had thrust something into his hands. "Snacks." 

Shikamaru had looked at the tray - a teapot, tea cups (two, he had thought, and then avoided whatever implication his mother had intended by studiously thinking of sleeping again), and a collection of crackers and sweets were all gathered on it.

"Go!" She had waved him away and he had hurried until he had exited their house. His mother apparently was still watching. "Go!" 

Shikamaru had groaned but kept walking. 

He had spent his time on the way there avoiding thinking about what his mother had meant by the second cup. It was china, something surprisingly nice that his mother never pulled out for normal use anymore. The implication was not pleasant - best ignored entirely. But Sakura was the kind of person to insist you eat with her. And the way her hair had caught in the sunlight in the library - the way she could shatter the ground with her fist - it was hard to argue with that.

When he finally got to the library, he pushed back the door to the library after rebalancing the tray across one forearm. "Hey."

"Hello?" Sakura's voice had floated to him from somewhere farther back in the library. "Is that you, Shikamaru?"

"Yeah." He'd stepped in, feeling the shadows attest to her presence near the edge of the bookshelves to his left. "Mom made snacks for you."

"Oh, really?" She had come quickly, and her face had lit up as soon as he reached her line of sight. "Oh, on a little tray! So cute."

He had rolled his eyes. "Don't encourage her."

"She's being very nice to me," Sakura had said, reaching out to take it. Her eyes had widened slightly, and he had known her conclusion before she spoke. "Oh, are you -"

"Joining?" Shikamaru had shrugged. "She just wanted to get me out of the house, I wasn't planning on it."

"You should," she'd said decisively - he'd bet on 'why don't you,' or 'won't you,' but after she'd spoken he knew it couldn't have been any other way. "Come on, we can eat on the veranda. I have to take a break anyways."

They'd sat. She'd poured tea out into the little cups, and Shikamaru felt somehow like the trees around him were laughing at him, at the bizarre tea party his mother had planned. 

"It's nice to see the sun," Sakura had said. 

"Mm." Shikamaru hadn't looked up with her. She was wearing black today, still civilian's clothing. Her hair was tied back, but pieces of it had escaped, now floating around her brows and eyes. "How's the research?"

Sakura's nose had wrinkled. "I'm not sure. I can find some poisons with similar symptoms to the one the remedy's supposed to cure, but I can't figure out what this remedy is. It doesn't match anything I've read about yet."

"It's from Konoha?" 

"No." She'd given him a look out of the corner of her eye. A little bit challenging. A secret.

Shikamaru had shrugged. "Whatever."

"Oh, it's not fun if you don't guess," Sakura had said, pouting. "Come on." 

He had almost given in to the urge to smile, and compromised by rolling his eyes. "You probably picked it up off that poisoner someone found in Iwa."

"Oh, full points!" Sakura had put down her tea cup to applaud. "The genius at work."

Shikamaru had snorted. "It doesn't take a genius." 

"Yeah, well, he's the source. I need to get the info about it back to Shishou in two days at latest." Sakura had sighed. 

He'd seen her expression grow resigned. "Library's not helping?"

"It is," Sakura had said, looking quickly at him. Those green eyes, like sunlight on leaves. "I'm really grateful to use it - I wish I'd been able to come here earlier and read it all."

"You don't need to be nice about it." Shikamaru had cracked his neck reflexively, pulling himself from her, from the easy thing to say (come back later, it's still here, you can read it then). "We probably don't have much from Iwa."

"Doesn’t matter. I'm still learning about poisons, and maybe I'll find something helpful." She'd shaken her head at him. "Shishou'd kill me if I don't figure it out."

"You'll figure it out." He could work with her, he knew. He didn't have a mission lined up, didn’t have plans besides sleeping and maybe playing himself in shogi. Maybe avoiding his mother. And part of him - part of him that he didn't exactly want to dissect at the moment - hadn't been opposed to the idea. But. 

"I'd better." Her fingernails - light pink, the color chipping at the edges - drummed against the veranda, a substitute for her words. He had waited, thinking to himself, holding the tea cup loosely.

Sakura had picked at the food and eaten some, thoughtfully. "I can't borrow any of it, can I?"

He'd known what she was getting it. "No. Nothing can leave the library." 

"Well. Damn."

Shikamaru had sighed. If it had been anyone else, he would be walking away by now. He'd finally had a free week. And Sakura was smart enough to do it herself. But her lips were pursed, and he could see the way her brow furrowed as she blew on her tea. He'd sighed. He was probably screwed. "What a drag."

"Mm?" She'd looked at him over her cup.

He had sighed again. "You need help?"

"Oh!" She had brightened. "Are you sure? You're free?"

"It's whatever." He had avoided looking at her smile. "I'm taking a nap in an hour."

Sakura's laugh had put a smile on his face all the same.

He hadn't taken a nap an hour later. He'd sprawled on the veranda but had unable to stop himself from turning her, over and over, in his mind. The way she took notes so quickly that she got ink on the side of her hand. Her quick analysis of all the suggestions he'd made. The moue her lips had formed when she had been thinking over something.

And when he'd finally fallen asleep and her crow of excitement - "Shikamaru! I think I found it!" - had woken him up, he hadn't even properly minded, only muttered something about being quiet while others were trying to rest.

She'd come back to thank his mother and him formally for their help, and for the library, and somehow Shikamaru had been forced to spend some time with her (because his mother never gave up, and he was close to believing she had less better things to do than even he did). He'd been on the veranda of his house, because it was sunny and warm, and because of the shogi table. She'd shown up. 

"I've learned how to play." Sakura had been sitting with her legs off the edge of the veranda as he slouched over the board, piece in hand. She'd tilted her head to the side. "Kind of."

"Kind of," Shikamaru had said flatly, unconvinced. 

"From a book." Sakura had looked back at him, sheepish. "Isn't that lame?"

He had given the question some consideration. The way she looked on the veranda, the curve of her shirt over her shoulder blades. The turn of her wrist. The way her hair caught the breeze. "No."

She'd snorted. "You're just being nice." 

"You're probably not great at shogi, but no one cares where you learned." He had repositioned one of his own pieces. The other side of the board was winning, but playing yourself meant you were winning either way. And losing. 

"I don't have the time to play." She had leant backwards, resting herself on her elbows. They were silent for a moment, and she sighed. "Honestly, I should be getting back to the hospital."

"Tsunade didn't tell you you could come?"

"No - she's really grateful you let me use the library - she let me come thank you!" She'd looked, upside down, at him. 

"And she's letting you come by and be nice because she wants her medics to keep being able to use the library," he had filled in. "It's fine. Only the elders really use it anymore."

Sakura had huffed. "It's not that transactional. We are grateful. You're such a cynic."

"Yeah, yeah."

Shikamaru had played another four moves on either side. Sakura's eyes had been closed, and he had been able to smell whatever scent clung to her - shampoo or soap or something - on the breeze. He had focused on the moves. The game. Not the way she just… hadn't left yet.

"I'm really here to thank you, anyways." She'd turned around so she had been mostly facing him. "I know you hate helping out so I really appreciate it."

"It doesn't matter. You already thanked me." The tile he had moved had clicked onto the board loudly.

"All right, all right." She'd gotten up from her perch, brushed down her clothes. "Can't you just accept a thank you like a normal person?"

"Troublesome," he had muttered.

She had laughed. "What, people being indebted to you?"

He had sighed. "You could just let me sleep next time you have a revelation in the library."

Sakura had rolled her eyes, but she had been smiling. "Fine, I will - we'll call it even, then. I'll see you around, Shikamaru. Thanks so much for your help."

"Yeah." He had raised a hand in goodbye and she'd rolled the door shut. His hand had hovered over tiles on the board. He picked up a lance piece and considered it.

But Shikamaru wasn't the kind to act. He dwelt. And so he spent hours, incalculable time, considering. All the options. All the paths. The escape routes. The possible endings. The ways she could beat him into the ground if he was honest with her (seven, at least, though he hadn't seen her train in a while). The people who would probably come after him if something went wrong (four, if Sai was feeling generous; Ino was a given, as was Naruto, and Shikamaru was pretty certain a certain copy ninja would smilingly destroy him without a second look). The number of times his mother had nagged him to get a girlfriend (innumerable, something Shikamaru wholeheartedly refused to keep track of). The thoughts never stopped. So he slept.

"Get up!" Ino. Outside his bedroom. She'd pounded on the door, and Shikamaru had groaned. "Nara Shikamaru, I'm making Chouji bust it down in three - two -"

He'd flicked a shadow and unlocked the door, throwing an arm over his face to avoid looking at her as she stormed in.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Mm." Shikamaru had been pulled forcibly upright. "Do I care?"

"You idiot - we said we were training today!" Ino had been apocalyptic, and her nails had dug into his shoulders like talons as she shook him. "Get up!"

"Troublesome woman," he'd muttered, barely audible, but moving now. His mother had betrayed him, too, for them to be in the house. Not that this was surprising.

"It is 11 am," Chouji said, not very apologetically.

When they'd made it to the training grounds, Sakura and Sai had been there. He'd woken up, then, at the splatter of Sakura moving fluidly through ink, the feeling of air charged with chakra. She had executed a tiger with a kick to the neck and spun around, meeting their eyes. His eyes. And then Ino's. He had noticed this.

"Morning," Sai had said.

"We're training here today, Forehead," Ino had said. Shikamaru had seen her back straighten, the way she flicked her hair so it caught the sun. Putting on a show. 

"We got here first, Ino-pig." Sakura had cocked her head to the side. "Go somewhere else."

"We would have gotten here first if it wasn't for lazy-ass here." Ino's look could have cut marble. He had ignored it with practiced ease.

"Well, you didn't." Sakura had turned away. "C'mon, Sai, let's do it again."

Ino had groaned. 

"Going one training ground over really isn't too far," Chouji had said.

"Come on, Forehead." Ino had walked down to the dirt, already rattling off a list of reasons why the ground was rightfully theirs.

Shikamaru had met Chouji's eyes for a second. The girls could fight about this for hours if they wanted to. He'd dropped to the grass. "What a drag." 

Chouji had waited a second more before sitting beside him and opening a bag of chips. It'd been the rhythmic crunch of chips, probably, that lulled him to sleep. It certainly hadn't been the loud argument below them. By the time Chouji had nudged him awake, the matter had apparently been settled. Ino and Sai were going to train one field over.

Shikamaru had looked at Chouji. "She gets me up for team practice…"

Chouji had shrugged. Shikamaru hadn't been awake enough to tell if it was an 'I don't understand either' shrug or an 'Ino has told me something that I can't tell you, put up with it until she tells you, too' shrug. Chouji had become remarkably good over the years at being able to keep secrets from even him. But Shikamaru was used to it. Ino occasionally ditched them for a 'sparring partner.' 

"Well, I'd feel bad for you," Sakura had said easily, "but I was picking between either the training ground or Sai, and the training ground had more personality."

Shikamaru had snorted. There was nothing like being teammates to bring out a total lack of mercy in people.

"Who wants to spar?" Sakura had asked. "Or what do you guys normally do?"

Chouji had shrugged, raising his chips slightly. "I'm still finishing this off. You guys spar."

Shikamaru had turned to Chouji, whose bland expression completely hid the fact that he knew he was betraying his best friend, who had just been woken up at an abysmal hour. "Traitor," Shikamaru had said. 

"It's ridiculous to see you play drama queen," Chouji said, tone almost kindly. "Go spar."

He had groaned but gotten up. 

"Oh, I don't think we've sparred before, Shikamaru," Sakura had said. He watched her survey the area again. Bare of trees, logs, or anything, with only bare ground below her. She was checking for shadows, he had known. 

He'd walked down to the dirt and looked at her flatly. "I'm not interested in sparring."

"I thought so," she'd said. A grin had flickered across her face before she crossed her arms and looked at him seriously. A façade. She'd been happy, excited. He could tell - her eyes, the set of her shoulders. "I know you hate to work hard, so let's make it interesting."

Shikamaru had raised an eyebrow.

"Normally we just spar for bragging rights," she'd said, cocking her head to the side, "but you don't care about that. You wouldn't want to bet money, you couldn't care less about good food, and you won't care about having pranking rights."

Shikamaru had been glad, again, about the team he had been placed on. Having to fight for pranking rights against Naruto was not something he was interested in.

"So what do you want, Shikamaru?" Her eyes narrowed at him, but she was altogether too smug to be saying it without an answer planned. Women.

"My life is simple," he'd said. "Take a guess."

"I have it on good authority that Shishou is making you go to a clan head meeting next week." Sakura had grinned at him. "Make me a good deal in return and I'll get you out of it if you win."

He had paused. Calculated. The clan head meetings were horrific, and last time Tsunade had yelled at him for falling asleep. And he was fairly certain he could beat Sakura. And even though he hated sparring, she was interested in it. She was excited. The smile on her face. He'd closed his eyes.

"I'll let you borrow a scroll." He'd glanced at her.

Her eyes had narrowed. "From the Nara library?" 

"Your choice of scroll, you can take it out of the forest for two nights." Shikamaru had paused, thought again about Naruto and rule-breaking. "And if we spar, normal sparring rules apply."

"Oh, Nara Shikamaru." Sakura had cracked her knuckles. "You make me a deal I can't refuse." 

And then she'd moved towards him and he'd had to duck. She was fast - because apparently Team Seven trained instead of any form of normal socializing - and he had known one punch would've been enough to call it a day. The chakra was enough to break bones with a single hit. Unpleasant. But they had been close and their shadows - 

Were no longer touching. Sakura had leaped backwards, pursed her lips at him. Shikamaru had waited.

Her eyes were narrowed at him again, deep in thought. Her red vest was splattered with ink, and there were ringed drops of it that had dried on her arms and legs and neck. Her hand fisted - and he had braced himself - and she had unfisted it, slowly, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"You think you know what I'm going to do, don't you." Sakura had huffed, tossed her head slightly. "Come on, then, genius." 

"I don't know," he had said. "There are only probabilities." His shadow had naturally fallen behind him, and hers in front of her. The grass around the training ground had been thick. He had planned.

Sakura had been naturally impatient, a trait he'd seen in her since her training with Tsunade. "Come on, then!" And then she'd punched the ground, and Shikamaru had had to move to avoid the cracks spreading from her, the dirt everywhere.

But shadows were everywhere, too, with dirt and stone flying. He'd reached out with his only to find that she had been gone - and then he had thrown himself to the side, instinctually, to avoid her. She had leaped on a boulder (to protect her shadow, presumably), leaped from it, and he had made the hand signs while she was throwing herself at him again. She had turned into a piece of rock (she always had been good at that troublesome substitution jutsu) and he had narrowly avoided the blow to the base of his neck that was a second slower than he had expected.

Her proximity to him, though, had cemented the deal; he had ran through the hand signs and turned around to see the real Sakura throwing herself at him again, causing her to freeze, midair. And he had fallen over as she dropped like a stone on top of him, his jutsu unable to freeze her inertia as well as her muscles. Rocks had fallen around them, and a thin film of dirt settled over them as the earth settled from Sakura's initial blow to the ground.

"Ouch," Shikamaru had said to the sky. He had, honestly, seen it coming. But it had been too much trouble to move.

"Let me go!" Sakura had managed to force out. She was warm, and her body weight was extremely pleasant. But this was not what he wanted.

"Yield?" He'd pushed her off of him and she had fallen uncomfortably to the side.

She had managed to fight him enough to scowl. "Son of a bitch, that's cheating."

"My mother may be a bitch, but it's hardly polite to mention it," Shikamaru had said flatly. "Also, normal sparring rules don't preclude bloodline limits. Which you clearly were aware of."

"I don't yield," Sakura had forced out through gritted teeth. Her hair and clothing were now streaked with dirt so that even the inside of her collar was tinted brown.

Shikamaru had rolled his eyes. Stubborn woman. "You've lost."

"I -" He felt a sudden push against his chakra on his hold over her and blinked. Her eyes were narrow, green and vicious. "I do not yield." 

Shikamaru had felt, with the full recognition that this was neither the time nor the place, his nervous system betray him. Her face was flushed, she was breathing heavily, her pupils were wide, and - and he had refocused. "Sakura. Come on."

"I -" Her arm had moved slightly, a movement remarkable given his hold on her, and he had held it down. She had glared at him again. 

He had pulled out a kunai with his other hand and held it for show over her neck. "Seriously."

"Ugh." He felt the sudden slackening of her fight against his chakra and she blew out a long breath. "I yield."

He'd stood up, immediately releasing her. "Thanks for taking care of that meeting for me."

"Ugh!" Sakura had stood, too, and shaken herself. A spray of rocks had flown from her hair. She'd swatted her clothes down; puffs of dirt clouded around her. "I can't believe it was that fast."

Shikamaru had lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "To be fair, you weren't aiming to harm." 

She had shot him a look. "You don't know that."

He had shrugged again. "I don't." There were just probabilities. Things she could have done. She was a horrible long-range fighter, but she was faster than him. She had held back. 

Sakura had been rubbing something off her arm and he hadn't stopped himself, as he walked by her, from pausing in front of her.

"What?" she had said, looking up at him. She had a streak of brown across her cheek where her face had stamped into the dirt. 

He had let himself consider the possibility - wiping it off of her face carefully, holding her jaw with his other hand to keep her in place. He had turned away, waved a hand at his face. "You have something."

Chouji had given him a look as he had walked up the grassy hill. 

"Is that it for training?" Sakura had asked. "C'mon, Chouji, what do you guys normally do?"

"Normally, Shikamaru sleeps."

"I can't believe you guys." He had lain himself down on the grassy slope in time to see her dust herself off again. The smudge on her cheek was now absent, clearly having been scrubbed at while he had walked away. "Well, I need to clean myself up, now, so I'll see you later." 

"Yeah, yeah." Shikamaru had had his eyes closed, by then. A few peaceful minutes passed as her footsteps became gradually fainter.

Chouji's chip bag made the familiar foil crinkling noise beside him. "If I told Naruto you beat her, you know, he'd want to spar against you, too."

"Don't even think about it."

And even after Chouji had gone, ostensibly to find Ino, he'd dreamed, there on the hill, of what he would have done otherwise. The other ways, the other possibilities. He had caught her shadow through the grass, he had trapped her against the ground, he had caught her face between his hands, threaded his fingers in her pink hair - and he had awoken, the blue sky staring at him instead of her green eyes. 

Shikamaru had seen her again a few weeks later at a gathering at one of the dive bars one of them was always frequenting after missions. Lee and Naruto were mostly yelling about nothing, Tenten had been narrating a mission to someone, Hinata had come to mostly hang off Naruto's words, and Chouji and him had been sitting. Shikamaru had been smoking disgusting cigarettes. This is what he'd gotten for asking his mother to get him some - she bought the cheap ones.

She'd walked up to the group, sake in hand - something significantly stronger than the average night warranted - had shaken off Lee and Naruto temporarily, and had dropped in the table opposite Shikamaru.

"What's up," Sakura had addressed them, pouring herself a cup. 

"Hi, Sakura," Chouji had said, looking at Shikamaru. Without Ino, her appearance with them instead of beside Naruto was an odd occurrence. Shikamaru had pretended to ignore this.

Sakura had knocked back the cup she'd just meted out and began to pour herself another. Shikamaru had fought the sudden, inevitable comparison. She'd met his eyes over the table and scowled.

"I see that look on your face, Shikamaru," Sakura had said, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't all for me. I'm giving the rest to Ino when she gets here. I know you were thinking I'm becoming Shishou."

Shikamaru had taken a drag of his cigarette to avoid addressing that landmine.

"Where is Ino, anyway, she said she'd beat me here. Said she was coming with you, Chouji?"

Chouji had directly avoided Shikamaru's eyes, which told him pretty much what he needed to know. Ino had definitely lied. "I don't know if she's coming."

Sakura had paused, looked at him, and looked at Shikamaru. Shikamaru kept his face impassive. Sometimes team dynamics were worth it. If Ino found out they'd revealed whatever lie she'd been feeding Sakura, there would be hell to pay. 

"Hmm." She'd narrowed her eyes at them, glaring at Chouji for a second longer. "I see." She drank another cup in one swallow and poured another. 

Shikamaru had raised an eyebrow at her. She'd stuck out her tongue. "I was just ditched. Let me play the abandoned date, here, please."

Chouji and her had started to talk after she offered them both sake. He'd turned it down, but Chouji had agreed to split it with her, probably (Shikamaru guessed) because he was slightly concerned Sakura would drink it all. Shikamaru had been pretty sure Tsunade'd taught Sakura how to burn off ethanol because Sakura wasn't stupid and wouldn't purposefully give herself alcohol poisoning, but the image was still somewhat surprising - the girl he'd definitely seen passed out after one of the very ill-advised parties they'd had as genin, drinking sake like water. 

Shikamaru had been on his third cigarette by the time Sakura had reached across the table and taken it from his mouth. He'd blinked, Chouji had blinked twice, and Sakura had ignored them entirely to survey the cigarette. "This smells worse than normal, Nara."

"Cheaper than normal," he had attempted. This time he was without the alcohol in his system to dull his surprise. Her fingers had brushed his lips this time, too, and he was trying to ignore that.

"You can't even be bothered to buy the good stuff anymore?" Sakura had raised a pink eyebrow at him.

Somehow it had felt wrong to mention his mother was still buying him things even though it was common knowledge that his mother and Ino between them practically had a chokehold on his life. He raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. 

Sakura's mouth had risen upwards at the corners slightly, amused. The smoke from his cigarette was rising to the ceiling of the tiny bar in a thin stream, and she was wearing some kind of lipstick, he'd realized. It had smudged on her sake cup. She was wearing red again. Hair down, no jewelry (not that she ever wore any). He had seen in her in so many situations over their lives. In bars like this and in the battlefield and in the schoolyard. She'd looked at his cigarette again between chipping nail-polished nails, considering. 

"Sakura - Sakura, you're smoking!" Naruto's sudden shout had broken the way he'd felt the world narrowing - narrowing so far that Chouji had even briefly disappeared. 

She'd immediately turned to Naruto, put the cigarette between her lips and pulled on it. By the time Naruto was close enough, she'd blown a cloud of smoke in his face. "And?" she had asked him, smile almost devious. Shikamaru had felt his mouth go dry, traitorously. 

"Wha -" Naruto's mind had clearly stalled. Shikamaru empathized. "You're - Tsunade would kill you!" Naruto had immediately tried to grab the cigarette from her fingers but she was faster.

"Here." She'd handed it back over the table to Shikamaru. "Enjoy, Nara."

He'd blinked at her again but taken it, and by the time he had she'd already gotten up, pulling Naruto along with her as she walked away. Their fast-paced arguing and ribbing was swallowed by the rest of the noise in the bar in seconds. 

There was a ring of lipstick on his cigarette, red and perfect.

"'Enjoy, Nara'?" Chouji, everything in his tone a question.

Shikamaru had ground out the cigarette on the table, completely unmoved by the fact that it was wood and he was putting a black mark in it. He hadn't entirely been able to meet Chouji's eyes, was unrepentantly grateful that Ino had never shown. "Troublesome."

She'd disappeared for a week or two, on some mission. And then it had been raining, and he'd ducked into the first place he had seen that he recognized. Ichiraku's. And somehow, there she was. Pink hair was hard to miss. She hadn't been with Naruto, which had been surprising, but there was an empty seat beside her as though someone had just left. 

He'd walked up beside her and taken the seat next to her at the little bar. "Hey."

"Oh - Shikamaru!" She had suddenly flushed, and he had discarded the irrational conclusion that she was blushing because of him as soon as she slightly moved her bowl as though to hide it.

"Ramen?" he had asked. He had thought she had hated ramen, had only eaten it because of Naruto, or something. When Ino had been on one of her health kicks, only eating fish and vegetables, she'd also said something along those lines.

"Oh -" Sakura had flushed darker. "Well, I don't normally. But…" 

"It's good weather for it," he had supplied. 

"Yeah." Sakura had picked up her chopsticks and toyed with a limp piece of nori on the edge of her bowl. 

"Mm." Shikamaru had ordered in between her silence. She was wearing mission clothing, black with a cowl neck. And she smelled vaguely like blood or steel or explosive tag, metallic and sharp. 

"It's kind of stupid, you know, because I don't like ramen," she had said, almost as though there hadn't been a pause.

He'd raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Sakura. Eating lunch in a covered restaurant when it's raining sure sounds stupid to me."

"That's not -" she had thrown a glare at him from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks had flushed again. 

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," he had said, fairly certain the empty seat was not because someone had just left.

"No, it's fine." Sakura had shaken her head slightly. She had paused, looked at him, and then back at her bowl. "I come here a lot after missions."

"Mm." 

"You know, we used to come here a lot after missions, and… it's kind of a tradition, you know?" She had looked at him again. 

He had thought of playing shogi by himself on the veranda. Picking up cigarettes. The first, horrifying pull on it, choking, coughing, but the scent on the back of his throat so familiar he had almost cried. "Yeah, I know." 

"Well, don't tell Naruto," she had said, suddenly shooting him a glare. "I'd never hear the end of it - he'd never let me go anywhere else, ever."

"Tell Naruto what?" he'd said, raising an eyebrow. "I ate ramen by myself because it was raining. Nothing interesting about that."

The corner of her mouth had pulled upwards. "True."

His ramen had been placed before him, and he'd eaten in silence. Sakura had slowly turned the noodles in her bowl over and over beside him but never raised them to her lips. There were a lot of things they'd learned not to ask one another after missions. If she had wanted to sit in silence, he wouldn't ask.

When he'd finished, Sakura had put her chopsticks down as well. He had paused for a second, and then stood, but she had spoken before he could turn around. "Thanks."

She had been looking somewhere to the side, but he had recognized the voice.

"Nothing to thank me for," he had said. 

"Mm." Sakura had looked at him. "I mean it, though."

He'd shrugged. "Yeah, yeah."

"You're still really bad at accepting thank yous, you know," Sakura had said to his back. "You should work on that."

"One of my many bad traits," he'd said, turning around to see her smile, fully this time, and roll her eyes at him. He'd waved a hand at her and exited the store to only a mild drizzle, just slow enough to hear her scoff ("honestly, Nara,") before he left.

She had started showing up in odd places, after that. She had sat in on two council meetings, silent, brow furrowed behind Tsunade. She had been at the hospital when he'd been treated for a minor injury, had taken over for another nurse ("Don't worry, I can get him") and healed him faster than their conversation had had time to finish. He had lingered at the door in the hospital, long enough that she had looked up at him and smiled. Gravitational pull, he had thought, or something like that. 

Because he kept returning to her. Her face. Her eyes. Her lips. The way her body moved. Her voice. Her mannerisms. The way she flicked her hair out of her face, or sat down, or held her shoulders further back now than she did in childhood. The snap in her voice when she was commanding someone in the hospital, and the gentle lilt in it while teasing Naruto. 

He had been outside the hospital, waiting on Chouji to receive his yearly physical. Something about preventive care and the way his family's drugs worked. Shikamaru hadn't really bothered with specifics, but he had bothered with the cigarette. And when Sakura had walked out of the hospital side door to raise an eyebrow at him, he'd bothered with her, too.

"You want to give yourself cancer?" she had asked.

"Good afternoon, Sakura," he'd drawled back. "So nice to see you so unexpectedly."

She had snorted at him. "Please, Shikamaru. Chouji's in, do you think I didn't know you'd be out here?"

"So you left your shift to see me," he had said. 

She had raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to leave you alone?" 

"All I want is a smoke break." He had taken a drag of it slowly. 

Sakura had rolled her eyes. "Right. You're not sitting out here, worried about Chouji like a mother hen."

He had exhaled smoke in her direction instead. "Yeah, yeah."

"Cancer," Sakura had said at him, pointing a finger, after she'd waved the cloud away. "Right outside the hospital." 

"You'll notice I'm outside, not inside," he had said flatly. She had rolled her eyes, but walked up to him anyways.

She'd reached up to his mouth - slower than normal this time. She had met his eyes, and then pulled it from him, her knuckles skimming across his lips again. He had fought the shiver. She had studied the cigarette and then flicked the ash off it. 

"You keep taking those from me," he had said, "and I'll think you're the one addicted."

She had met his eyes, eyebrows raised high. "Really." 

"Haruno Sakura," he had said, "serial smoker." She had scoffed, and he had felt a smile pull at his mouth at the sight.

"I think I could get addicted to these, though," she had said, watching the smoke rise from her fingers. "Even if they taste horrible."

"Really," he'd said, waiting.

"Mm." Sakura's expression had sobered. "Nicotine is horrible for you, but it is good at distracting people."

"Distracting?" he had asked. 

She hadn't looked up. "It's supposed to be calming. Is that why you use it?"

"Smoking is good for activating dopamine and repressing areas of the brain related to anger," he had quoted. 

She had looked at him, surprised. "I thought smokers never read the research."

He had snorted. "Are you kidding? My mother forced me to read about half a book on it when I started."

Sakura had laughed, and he had smiled, lop-sidedly, again. There was something in that laugh - something joyous he rarely heard. 

"I like your mother," she had said, eyeing him from the side. 

"Don't," he had recommended. She had snorted, completely unladylike. Her white doctor's coat flapped around her in the wind, and smoke had trailed his way from his cigarette.

"You didn't really answer my question," she had said, glancing up at him. "I doubt you're smoking for cancer research, although if you'd like to donate your body to science, let me know and I'll sign you up."

"You can have it." He'd shrugged. "I won't need it by that point."

"You," she had said, pointing his cigarette at him, eyes narrowing, "are avoiding the question."

"Some say it's a necessary skill for a ninja, avoiding questions." 

"Ugh, I give up." Sakura had rolled her eyes. "Take it back, before I actually smoke it and end up getting addicted."

He'd walked over to her and reached to take it from her hand. Their fingers had tangled together for a moment, and when he'd met her eyes, they had already been on him, had already been searching his face for - something. He had taken the cigarette, thought about the way her hand had lingered just under his before she had let it fall to her side. 

He had taken in a drag off the cigarette and exhaled. The rush of calm, the increase in his heartbeat. He had thought about this, about the girl next to him, about the scenarios. They were narrowing, now. The exits. The escape routes. He had been closing those doors for some time.

After a few seconds, in which she had stood beside him silently, he'd spoken again. "You'd smoke, then, even if they give you cancer?"

She had glanced back up at him. "Ninja don't die of cancer."

"True." Shikamaru had spent some time thinking about this, when Asuma had started smoking. Asuma had said the same thing. Ninjas rarely went to the oncology wing of the hospital. They died of poison, assassination, a jutsu gone wrong, a kunai in the leg that festered, a run-in with a missing-nin unexpectedly.

"Mm." Sakura had watched the stream of smoke flickering between his fingers for another second. "He's fine, you know. Chouji."

"Yeah." Shikamaru had looked to the side, to the buildings across the street. Some restaurant, probably serviced solely by anxious teammates waiting on their final member to get out of surgery, or weepy parents. 

"One of the nurses said you come and wait here every time he gets a physical."

Shikamaru had let out a small huff, feeling warmth gather in his ears. "You all sit up there and gossip, huh?"

"It's sweet," Sakura had said, looking at him, almost indignant. "Teammates look after each other. I think it's really thoughtful of you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Nara, you really need to work on your 'thank you, Sakura, how kind of you to say so and notice my concern' bit. Even a 'wow, Sakura, your insight never ceases to amaze me,' would suffice."

"Wow, Sakura, your insight never ceases to amaze me," he had stated, deadpan.

"I'll tell your mother you should work on accepting compliments." Sakura had grinned at him mischievously.

Shikamaru had felt his blood pressure rise at the thought. "Don’t." The thought of his mother, her victorious grin ("So, Shikamaru, Sakura-chan has been complimenting you? Hmm? Anything you want to tell your mother?") - and the things she would probably start telling Sakura - and the questions she would ask ("Tell me, Sakura-chan, what do you think of my son? Also, I must know, are you considering having children? Do you like the Nara forest? It's a great place to raise little ones") - and the advice she would give - ("Oh - it's very easy to tame a Nara man, I can teach you") - and the way his situations would fall to pieces. 

She had laughed again. "The look on your face whenever I bring up your mother is hilarious."

"That," Shikamaru had said, "is not the kind of amusement I enjoy."

And her face had split into a smile, and he had given in to the thoughts, to the scenarios, for a second - imagining. He had always wanted to have a simple life: to sit outside, on the veranda, and maybe drink tea, or just sleep with his back to a post. But now on the veranda, there was always someone else, who took his cigarette from him and sat with him until she decided to flitter away again, leaving him with smoke and the scent of fruity soap or shampoo. There was a scenario, still, he had thought, where this could happen. He had taken another drag of his cigarette. 

"I should get back to work," Sakura had said beside him. 

He had turned to look at her. A piece of her hair, caught at an odd angle, had stuck out from behind her ear. Shikamaru had reached out and threaded it back into place, fingers skimming her ear, her neck. He hadn't reacted at the barely imperceptible shiver, the look in her eyes when he looked back at her again. 

"You had something," he had said.

Sakura's eyes had narrowed at him, slightly. "I see."

She'd turned and left, but when the door to the hospital had been closing, her eyes had met his again, searching. 

Tsunade had sent her on a mission again, this time with Ino, and he hadn't seen her for a week. He had tried to be unconcerned about the way his mind seemed to track the time. The distance. The waiting. It was none of his business what they were up to.

When they'd come back, Ino had pulled him (literally) and Chouji (not literally) from his house to another dive bar, because she wanted to 'cut loose.'

Ino had gone to the bar ("I'll get you two beers or something, you never care anyways"), and then Chouji had nudged him with what on any other person would have been a smirk on his face. "Look who's here."

His eyes had met Sakura's across the room. He'd shot an annoyed look at Chouji on principle, mostly because Chouji was annoyingly right, and walked over to see Sakura anyways.

"Hey."

"Nara Shikamaru," Sakura had addressed him, turning around, "out on a Friday night? Not asleep somewhere?"

"Against my will, believe me."

She had snorted. There was an empty glass on the table beside her, lipstick stamped in concentric rings around the rim. "I do believe it."

"Ino know you're here?" he had asked.

"Don't think so. Sensei was here, but he just left." Sakura had grinned slightly, as though sharing in some secret joke. "I think he didn’t want to chat with you."

"Sounds like Kakashi." It had, weirdly. 

"She didn't have a great time this week." Sakura had been looking in the general direction of the bar. Even though they couldn't see Ino, he'd understood.

"Guess not."

"It's a good thing, you know," she'd said, the half-smile still on her face, "that you guys are here for her."

He'd dropped into the seat beside her. "Mm. Try saying that when she pulls you halfway across town by the shirt collar."

Sakura had laughed. "You say that, but she's done that to me before too. It's just been a while."

"Makes sense." Shikamaru had slouched over the table, ignoring the stickiness of the surface. The table had smelled, oddly, of ink.

They'd sat there in silence for a few seconds. Shikamaru had read the variety of graffiti carved into the surface half-heartedly. A tiny drawing of a tiger, dainty and wet, was sketched out below him.

Sakura had eyed him. "What are you doing over here? Ino'll get possessive if she sees you here."

"Ino, possessive and controlling?" he had said, deadpan. "Never."

She had laughed. "The risk's on your neck, I guess."

"You're going to stick around now that Kakashi's gone?" he'd asked.

"Mm." Sakura had looked around him at the back exit. "Well. I was going to duck out."

"Pretend to be drunk," he had said, "and I'll tell Ino I need to take you home. We both get out of here."

She had glanced at the exit again. "Mm." 

"Is that a yes?"

"Well." She'd looked behind them. There had been no sight of Ino or Chouji. "We could just shunshin. We are ninja, you know."

"Only Team 7," he had said flatly, "would use a shunshin to get out of a bar. Everyone else just walks out like normal people."

"It's very effective." Sakura had looked at him indignantly. "Besides, I never get drunk."

And then they had both stiffened at the noise of Ino's voice ("you said Shikamaru went where?"). He had looked at Sakura. "See you outside," she had said, and then she was gone, a single petal falling to the ground beside him. Cherry blossom.

"What," Shikamaru had addressed the table below him, "a drag."

Less than a second later he was in the alley outside the bar, slightly breathless from the sudden rush. 

Sakura had grinned at him. A street lamp lit her from behind, the light flickering yellow around them. "Still making fun of my escape techniques?"

"Could've picked something less dramatic," he had said.

"What's the fun in that?" She had walked over to him. "Where're you headed now? I wouldn't go somewhere Ino expects. She'll be pissed."

"Chouji'll handle it." Shikamaru had looked behind them, at the closed bar door. "Besides, I think she went to see someone else."

"Oh?" Sakura's eyebrows had raised, and her lips had curled upwards. 

"Kakashi doesn't draw little tigers on bar counters."

Sakura had shaken her head at him. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, yeah." Shikamaru had rolled his eyes. "Sai left when he saw us to go see Ino, probably at the bar when she ordered drinks. He'll go somewhere else and they'll see each other again after she has a drink or two, tells Chouji she can walk home safe, and goes somewhere else instead."

Sakura had raised her eyebrows. "Well, well. Someone was paying attention."

"I just know Ino."

She had raised a finger to her lips. "Don’t tell."

"Chouji knows too." Shikamaru had paused. "Hell, he probably knew before I did."

Sakura had sighed. "Well, still. Don't tell Ino."

"Yeah." He had felt around in a pocket and found his pack. He had shaken out a cigarette, produced his lighter, and lit up. The instant rush of nicotine, the familiar smell.

"You're addicted," Sakura had said. She hadn't walked away, yet. They had been in the alleyway - just the two of them. The noise from the bar, the chattering and clink of glasses, had been muted behind them.

"Probably." 

He'd heard the noise - the familiar sound - "Where on earth is he?" - Ino's voice, approaching the door behind them - probably milliseconds before Sakura had. He'd reacted mostly on instinct. Sometimes ninjas just did that - even with his plans, his scenarios, his carefully laid strategies. He'd taken the step forward, grabbed Sakura around the waist, and - 

Then they were on the rooftop. Sakura, eyes wide, hands raised slightly as though unsure whether to push him away or do nothing (or grab his collar, or his face). His arm around her waist, the warmth of her body pressed against his. The door, somewhere below them, had swung open. Shikamaru had known the only thing Ino would see would be his cigarette, dropped on the floor, smoke still rising from it.

"Ugh! Chouji, he freaking left."

"C'mon, Ino." Chouji's voice had been almost laughing, and Shikamaru had a good idea why. The scheming bastard.

The door had slammed shut. He had looked back at Sakura, who had lowered her arms slightly. 

"Sorry." He hadn't let go of her waist. It had been hard to convince himself it was necessary. 

She'd shaken her head slightly, as though to clear it. "That was quite a reaction."

"Survival instinct," he'd said, not entirely joking. 

"I… see." Sakura had paused. 

"I guess shunshin is useful sometimes."

"Right." Sakura had looked very slightly dazed, still, but she had blinked again and the odd look in her eyes was gone. She'd raised an eyebrow at him. "I guess even lazy ninja move quickly when they want to." 

She hadn't quite taken a step back, but she'd shifted slightly, and Shikamaru had let go of her, let his fingertips skim her waist as he did so. Sakura had met his gaze. He'd stepped forward, closing the short distance between them, hadn't missed the way her face turned upwards to meet him, the way her pupils had blown wider. He'd reached up and pulled a leaf from her hair, probably tangled into it from the shunshin. He'd let his fingers trail her neck again, just gentle enough to be purposeful.

Her eyes were dark on his. "What are you doing?"

"You had something," he had said, raising the leaf.

Her eyes had narrowed at him. "One day you're going to get what's coming to you, Nara."

"I have no doubt." He hadn't. 

The next week, she'd walked up to him and demanded he follow her to the training grounds. He had, and he'd tried not to think how easy it was to just follow her, how much this had reminded him of his father and his mother.

"We spar again," she had said. "Same rules. Same prizes."

He had cracked his neck. "I don't really care for second chances, Sakura."

"Come on," she had said. "Another meeting you get to miss?"

He had finally met her eyes. "All right."

It had been over almost immediately - she had suddenly appeared next to him and then they'd been flying backwards - and he had realized seconds before it happened that she was going to pin him to a tree, and then she had. A kunai to his Adam's apple, and the other hand fisted - with chakra-laced strength - around one of his arms, keeping him from making the hand signs he needed to interlace their overlapping shadows. Her torso was flush with his, his legs and hers brushing, the curve of her breasts pressing into his chest. He had fought the urge to swallow, well aware that the blade would have sliced him if he had.

"I," Sakura had said, smile so satisfied he hadn't even begrudged her the way heat was pooling uncomfortably in him, "figured you out, Nara Shikamaru."

She had been kind enough, then, to lower the knife a fraction so he could speak. "I guess so," he had said, voice hoarse, not entirely because he'd lost his breath being throw into a tree. 

"You can't really make hand signs if I'm throwing you across the field," she had said, grinning at him. 

His other hand was free, and he had raised it slowly. "Not really."

"And," she had said, and her eyes were dancing - those green eyes, like the grass behind her, or the leaves in the Nara forest, lit with sunlight - "unless you're escaping Ino, apparently, you're not very fast."

"I'm not," he had said lowly. Her hair in the sunlight was pink fading to thin wisps of white, her eyelashes pale, her collarbone just below him - her lips just below him.

"And," she had continued, straightening up more so she was inches closer, "you don't really try too hard."

"Not really." He had leaned forward slightly.

Sakura had paused at the action, eyes narrowing at him. "So, Nara Shikamaru, you should probably yield."

He had raised his hand beside his head, in an imitation of their chunin exam trials, and she had lowered the knife a fraction more, but she had still surveyed him, waiting. She raised an eyebrow. "I caught you, Shikamaru."

And how beautiful she had looked - the red of her shirt against the cream of her skin, the curve of her lips, slanted slightly in amusement. He hadn't had a chance.

"Yeah," he had said, and threaded his raised hand through her hair, "you definitely did."

She had stalled momentarily, her eyes wide. There were two scenarios. Or maybe three. He was still counting. 

"This," he had said, fingertips skimming her cheek, his face dipping to hers (and met with a little gasp, of surprise, or pleasure), "is me yielding."

Her lips had tasted of something vaguely chemical, scented, but by then she had dropped the scalpel and had laced her hands into his hair and he had forgotten entirely about the scenarios, or the other options, and instead thought of her, and the way her lips were moving against his own, and the way her breath had hitched as he had reached around her to pull her closer, and the way she had pressed herself firmly against him. It could have lasted minutes or hours, and for once his mind was silent about everything other than this moment, and the little noises she had made between kisses.

They'd pulled apart, and Sakura had ran her hands down to rest on his chest. "That," she had said, and the breathless quality to her voice had been addictive, even at one dose, "that, Shikamaru, was probably the most satisfying win I've had in sparring for a while."

"Mm." Shikamaru had leant forward again. "Should I be concerned about the 'for a while' part?"

Sakura had laughed, and he had felt the vibration of it through her body on his. "Keep kissing me and I think you won't have to be."

"Fine by me."

He had come back to the house where he had been supposed to meet Chouji. Something had given it away. It had probably been his lips, or what he thought might have been a hickey blooming on his neck. Or the general sense he was getting that he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, literally and figuratively. 

Chouji had raised his eyebrows at him, and Shikamaru had laid down on the couch, not entirely meeting his eyes. 

"You look like someone ran you over with a boulder," Chouji had said, helpfully.

"Shut up."

"So you finally did something about Sakura."

"I don't need an 'I told you so,'" he had informed Chouji.

"You said that, not me." 

Shikamaru had rolled his eyes. "I don't need this from you, Chouji."

"Do you want me to tell Ino instead?"

"Fuck you," he had said half-heartedly, turning over on the couch. Chouji had laughed. 

Two days later, after a mind-numbingly easy C-rank he'd been sent on, he'd seen her again. He had walked from Ino's family's house and found himself at her place. He hadn't been to her apartment in weeks, had never had a reason to go by himself.

"Come in," she'd called through the door at his knock.

He had opened the door to see her stirring something on the stove in her tiny kitchen, one hand rested against the stove top, slouching slightly. She was in civilian clothes. She was gorgeous from behind, even in a t-shirt that didn't fit her right, even in bad lighting, even unexpectedly on a weeknight.

"Hey." 

She had spun around, eyes wide. "Oh! Shikamaru. You're - um - Shishou told me you were on a mission."

"I got back today." He had shut the door behind him. "Do you mind?"

"Um. No." She had slipped a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm making soup. It's… I didn't realize you were coming over, but I can make some extra if you want some."

"I'm fine." He had walked into the kitchen, leaned on a counter. She had turned slightly, as though to keep him within her sight. 

It had been silent for a minute or two, the only noise the occasional bubble of whatever she was making. He had watched her as she occasionally looked back at him and then straight back at what she was stirring, probably more vigorously than she needed to be.

Unfortunately for Sakura, Shikamaru was excellent at riding out uncomfortable silences. Sakura had finally looked up at him for more than a second, the smile uncertain, almost shy, on her lips. "So. Shikamaru. Um, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to see you." 

She'd flushed, cheeks pink as her hair. "I… see." She had stirred the pot once more again, slowly this time.

"Is that a problem?" he had asked.

"Oh, no," she had said quickly. The red on her cheeks hadn't darkened, but it hadn't faded, either. The uncertain girl from so long ago - so Sakura had still kept parts of her, somewhere. Something Team Seven, Tsunade, and all her various battles hadn't been able to shake. Shikamaru had almost been surprised. "I was just… wondering."

He had shut his eyes, thinking. The scenarios. The ways to respond. The right words to say. The paths, the angles. How to get to those nights on the veranda, years away.

"Shikamaru?"

He'd looked up to see her. The pot had been set aside on the stove, its burner off. She'd walked slightly closer, cheeks a little bit rosy, but her shoulders set back. Those green eyes on his. 

"I wasn't messing around in the training ground," he had told her. Because he was a ninja who knew he was going to die instead of having those halcyon days on the veranda, days where the only worry was lung cancer, or someone beside him nagging at him about his cigarettes - and because he wasn't the kind of play games, and because he was done with dancing around the issue. "You're smart - you knew that."

"I knew that," she had echoed. The shyness - that sudden hallmark of her earlier years - was mostly gone. She met his gaze head-on. "You're not the kind of person to just mess around."

"There's too much that could go wrong." Shikamaru had looked at her. "Either we try this or I leave you alone entirely."

Sakura had shaken her head at him, almost smiling. "If I had wanted the second, you wouldn't have been able to come in the house."

He'd stared at her, searching for some confirmation - that she understood. She had just been standing there, looking back at him, head tilting to the side. Shikamaru had considered her for a minute, the scenarios narrowing, slotting into place in his mind. The stream of thoughts he had never been able to entirely shut off.

Sakura had suddenly snorted. "Yeah, you might be smart, but seriously, you're still an idiot sometimes, Nara."

"What?" He'd blinked at her. 

She'd raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't you know that I'm just waiting to be kissed? Don't make a girl wait this long."

He had felt his ears redden. "So I'm supposed to read your mind?"

"Ugh. And they call you a genius," Sakura had said, mouth curling upwards at the edges. 

But he'd stepped forward, slipping his arms around her and she'd risen to meet him. And her lips on his, her hands on him, the way the sky darkened behind her through her window as he'd slowly worked her clothes off - and how the scenarios and paths and plans and thought after thought after thought were gone, lost as soon as her hands slipped under his shirt - there'd been something thoroughly necessary about that respite from his mind. There was something to be said for that silence. A kind of surrender. 

When she'd claimed hunger and gone to reheat the long-forgotten soup, he'd lit a cigarette at her kitchen table, let the smoke rise to the ceiling. 

"You'll make my alarm go off," Sakura had said, slipping her soup into the microwave. She hadn't bothered to redress, had pulled on Shikamaru's shirt instead.

"Mm." Shikamaru had been mostly content to watch her. "Maybe."

"You'll make my entire house smell bad."

"Yep."

"You'll give me second-hand smoke."

"Uh-huh."

"You'll make my neighbors complain."

"I'll make them move out. Less people to hear us."

Sakura had flushed dark red, then. "Shikamaru!"

"That is my name," he had said. 

"Ugh." She had sat down beside him with her bowl, now heated, in her hands. She'd shaken her head as though to rid herself of the smallest tinge of pink on her cheeks. "I cannot believe you."

"You're not kicking me out of your house yet, though."

"You're like this close," she had said, raising her spoon and indicating in the air about an inch's width of distance. "This much more, and I kick you out."

He had snorted. "Yeah, yeah."

"One wrong move, and you leave via a hole in the wall. Now that would make my neighbors complain."

"You're not much for post-coital bliss, are you?"

Sakura had flushed darker. "Nara, I seriously dare you -"

"Dare me to what?" He had raised an eyebrow.

She had looked away, shaking her head, mouth twisting as she fought not to smile. "Ugh. I don't know."

It hadn’t been the veranda. 

There was no tea, there was no shogi, there was no sunny afternoon. It was a beat-up table in Sakura's tiny apartment, and there was nowhere to flick his ashes off his cigarette, and she had been embarrassed and thus prone to pick a fight. There hadn't been hot water in her shower or space on her futon for both of them to comfortably rest when she'd finished her meal. But when she'd fallen asleep on his arm and caused him pinpricks of pain as his arm fell asleep with her, Shikamaru had looked at her ceiling, and its water stains, and at the girl next to him. And the veranda - and all the scenarios and planning and second thoughts and consideration - weren't half as worth it as this.


End file.
